Motherlove
by Rb
Summary: What lengths will one go to, to preserve his mother's life? Peter Pettigrew knows. (Spoilers for Book 3, Prisoner of Azkaban. Some profanity.)


Motherlove

This is based on a few things -- one of my friends mentioning that Peter sounded a bit like Neville Longbottom (which of course means Peter's not all bad, 'cause Neville's mad cool), after one of my numerous rereadings of PoA noticing that Pettigrew's mother was mentioned often enough to be significant, and finally, my disgust in the portrayal of Wormtail in nearly all MWPP fics. While I'm sure there are MWPP fics that portray Peter in a positive light...frankly, I haven't seen many. And, dag nabbit, Wormtail is a VITAL part of MWPP! There wouldn't be a W without him! And everyone knows that W is the coolest letter (after Q, G, and N.)

Avery, Rosier, and Snape are Slytherins in canon. Delilah Leeds is not, but my theory is, she married Lestrange. Her name refers to some local and biblical terms -- Delilah is the one who found the secret to Samson's strength while pretending to love him, and Leeds is the surname of the Jersey Devil who, according to legend, haunts the Pine Barrens of southern New Jersey. I think it's a good Slytherin name. Yeah. My dad pointed out that 'motherlove' is actually two words. I think the concept of 'motherlove' is something unique that should have its own word. Or, I could use artistic license. Yeah, that covers nearly everything. ^^;; Some profanity. Normally I don't include this much cursing. Oh, well. 

J. K. Rowling created the characters, Scholastic published the versions I've read. Warner Brothers may try to forbid it, but not while I'm able to argue! ^_-

**Motherlove  
by Rb**

I did it for my mother's sake.  
  
You have to believe me. You'll never trust in me again. I have to say it anyway.  
  
I did it for my mother's sake.   
  
It's no excuse, in your eyes. But how can you stand there and judge me?! You can never understand! You, Remus, your mother hated the very sight of you. She hated what you represented. She hated what you *were*. She would have been happier if you were dead, and you know it, and I know it. I heard you crying in the dark nights.  
  
And you, Sirius, you never gave a damn for either of your parents. You thought they were shit, you disregarded them as ignorant Muggles, you spent all vacations at James's house because you couldn't even bear to look at the sight of your stupid, stupid, silly parents, who didn't believe in magic and didn't understand your wands and robes and new world.   
  
The only one who could understand me is James. And for what I did to him...I'm sorry. I'm *sorry*. A thousand times over, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. When I die, hell doesn't have a layer deep enough to hold my blackened soul. But I wouldn't change what I did, even if I had the choice.   
  
I did it for my mother's sake.  
  
My mother...  
  
You guys never knew this, but my father was one of the first to be killed by You-Know-Who. My father was an Auror, and a damn good one. He was killed when he first discovered He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, while You-Know-Who was tormenting some Muggles.  
  
The death spell, Avada Kedavra, was performed on my father. He could have Apparated away, but instead he decided to protect some damn Muggles he'd never seen before. His body was delivered to our doorstep by You-Know-Who himself. After that, my mother lost it -- utterly lost it. She sunk down deep into depression, and no amount of Cheering Charms could make her smile.  
  
Remember how I practiced and practiced those Cheering Charms? It wasn't just because Professor Flitwick had put it on our final exams: I thought that maybe, maybe, just maybe, if I made a perfect Cheering Charm, then it would work on my mother.  
  
Like everything else I've done, it didn't work.   
  
My friends, my 'friends', my so-called friends -- I know they thought I was pathetic. Sirius was always poking fun at me, as much as those Slytherin brats, those bastards. Avery, Rosier, Snape...they all taunted me mercilessily. And Sirius was just as bad, and he was supposed to be my friend, my friend, my friend!  
  
And Remus, that damn werewolf! He was always smiling at me, as if to reassure me, don't worry about being so pathetic and weak, Peter, it'll be all right, poor little Peter, I'm sure you'll master that spell, if you work hard...  
  
I don't need a werewolf's pity. I'm a pure-blooded wizard! Tens of generations of Pettigrews and Coreys and Nurses and Proctors -- pure-blood! I don't need the pity of some eternally damned creature! I'm above that! I'm above that!  
  
Aren't I?  
  
James was the only decent one, because he was *honestly* good, you could tell. He didn't tease, he didn't smirk, he was true and honest in everything he did. But even he didn't have enough time to bother with a pathetic little weakling like me.  
  
I know he felt that way! I know it! Even the best of you all felt that way!  
  
You all hated me, secretly, because I was dragging you down, you never thought I could be as great as you, you never thought I could be as powerful as you, you never thought I could do anything with my life without mooching off of you, because I was so small and not so skilled -- well, fuck you! Fuck you! I could find something to do! I didn't have big dreams like James and Sirius, I didn't have hopes like Remus did for a better future. I only had one wish: to protect my mother. I didn't have to find a high-paying job, I could have...okay, I didn't have big plans like you all did, but I could have found something small, something so that I could protect my mother...  
  
That's all I needed to do. My mother was the only person I needed in my life.   
  
I did it all for my mother's sake.  
  
Should I tell you the whole story? Will you be able to stomach it? Or will you laugh at my 'weakness'?   
  
The day after we graduated from Hogwarts, I made my own way home, despite James's offering for me to 'hang out' at his house. (James had been in Muggle Studies for too long, in my opinion. He was forgetting proper wizarding pride.)  
  
I knew my mother was waiting for me.  
  
I made my way to my house, but stopped dead as I reached the doorstep. I could feel this emanation of evil...  
  
I knew who would be inside.  
  
I didn't know what I would see.  
  
You-Know-Who was sitting calmly in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in one hand, a biscuit in the other.   
  
"Hello, Peter," he said calmly.  
  
I was torn between screaming for help and attacking that scum. The reason why my father was dead, why my mother was so depressed...!  
  
"Don't scream," he said in that calm tone. "Your mother is asleep upstairs -- for now. How long she sleeps depends on you."  
  
All the tension left my body as his eyes met mine. His eyes were like a snake's, the pupils slitted, slightly reflective in the light. They were...they were wise. They knew things. They were...  
  
I can't describe what my lord's eyes were like. They were eyes that sucked you in, that knew you, that knew your thoughts before you thought them. They were old, as old as the earth, and as evil. And yet...and yet, you were drawn to them, you couldn't look away, you were...  
  
"What do you want?" I asked dully, knowing that whatever he wanted, I would have to give.  
  
He laughed. It was a cold, high-pitched sound. "I want you, Peter."  
  
With those words, my fate was sealed.  
  
It wasn't *quite* that simple, of course. I could have resisted, if I had really wanted to. I'm sure of it.  
  
But then my lord gave me the condition that melted all of my resistance away: if I came willingly to his side, then my mother's life would be spared. And since I would come willingly, there would be no need to brand me with the Dark Mark...so no one would know, of course...except for myself.  
  
And my mother would be taken care of. She would not die from my lord's hand, or any of his minions'. I was quite exact on the wording. Spending so much time with the other Marauders had taught me *that*, if nothing else.   
  
And in return...I was not branded. A spy is never branded. That negates the usefulness of a spy, to be marked so obviously.  
  
Instead, a piece of my lord came into me. He was in my head. In my own mind. He did not control, but he watched and listened through my eyes and ears. And my lord...my lord watched the thoughts in my own head, as well.  
  
I couldn't be a traitor. If he knew I was thinking traitorous thoughts...my mother would die. I had given up control of my mother's fate and turned her into the Devil's tool...  
  
But my mother was free. And I could speak to her and tell her I loved her. And that was all that mattered. As long as I was not a traitor...  
  
And my lord was great, my lord was powerful, my lord was merciful, my lord was strong, my lord was...my lord was life itself! No, he was surpassing life, into immortality!  
  
And even as the years passed, and even as my lord's presence grew stronger in my mind, and even as the fighting grew...my mother was growing blind and senile. Not even evil's stench was noticeable to her.  
  
I did it all for her sake.  
  
But then again, no one else seemed to notice my inner evil. Not even Albus Dumbledore. Oh, Professor Dumbledore...could even you have saved me?  
  
Why, Sirius? Why were you so sure that You-Know-Who would come after you? You were waiting for it to happen. You were anticipating it to happen. You wanted to be the big hero who defeated a wizard so horrible, few dare to mention his name. But you, you spit his name out with such bravado, it's a wonder that lightning doesn't come from the heavens -- or from below -- to strike you where you stand. You were sure that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named would never, ever come after a talentless wimp like myself when he already owned me. But you never watched this sparrow fall. You never cared.   
  
My lord understands that true power is not held by the strong, but the weak. He pushed my lever. I gave him what he wanted. And when the Potters trusted me with their location, making me their Secret-Keeper -- but only after Sirius had so arrogantly refused the position -- I gave him the final piece.   
  
James, Lily...I'm sorry. But I would do it again. My mother would have died if I hadn't given into You-Know-Who's demands...  
  
My mother never abandoned me, my mother never mocked me, my mother never smirked at me, my mother never thought I was weak. My mother loved me. Motherlove is such a potent thing. It overpowers everything -- everything else.   
  
But when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named killed the Potters...he neglected to factor in motherlove. For as my lord could sense my surrounding...I could sense his. I saw him murder James, who attacked bravely but in vain, and kill Lily, who died protecting her baby son.  
  
I felt the blast as the Killing Curse rebounded off of Harry and went towards my lord. And I felt it as his mind suddenly withdrew from my own.  
  
I was free! I was out of his service! My mother would be safe at last!...  
  
...but for such a price. I had betrayed my friends, I would be a wanted criminal, my poor mother, the dishonor that would be bestowed on her...  
  
...although so few people knew that I was the Potters' Secret-Keeper, because it had been done in secret, and only Sirius, James, Lily, and I knew...  
  
...to save my mother's image, to save my life, there was only one thing left to do...  
  
To do this would make me more evil than I had before Voldemort had been destroyed, but I didn't care.   
  
I purposely walked around the streets of London, knowing Sirius would come after me. And he did, his back to a plain brick wall in a small alley.  
  
He seemed more dog -- wolfish, really -- than man. His voice, when it came out, was in a growl. "How dare you, Wormtail!"  
  
My voice came out in a wail. "How could you!"  
  
He looked confused.   
  
"Lily and James, Sirius!" I sobbed loudly enough for the Muggles passing by to hear me. "How could you?"  
  
His face darkened as he realized what was happening, but I was too quick for him. As quickly as I could, I took out a knife and sliced off my right index finger. The pain was excruciating, but I was able to endure it -- I hadn't endured seven years of Delilah Leeds devising small tortures for me every Potions class for nothing.   
  
Then I pulled out my wand and blew up the street behind us. Perhaps some Muggles died. I didn't care. Let them die. Let them all die. They took my father away from me. Let them all die. I transformed into my Animagus form, a rat, and ran away.   
  
I spent a lot of time just racing about in the sewers. I wanted to forget who I was. What I'd done.  
  
But it's not all my fault, it's not all my fault. If you had cared about me, Sirius, Remus, James, if you had bothered to include me without that grimace, if you'd bothered to understand how I felt...  
  
I worshipped you guys. I thought you were amazing. I thought you could do no wrong. Maybe I was wrong. You all are mortal, after all...James is dead, Sirius in prison, Remus in disgrace...  
  
And as for me? I stayed in rat form. I had to; I was thought to be dead.   
  
I lurked around my mother's house for quite some time. From discarded newspapers, I'd learned that I'd been awarded the Order of Merlin, First Class -- posthumously, of course; I could have never been awarded it on my merits alone. Sirius was in one of the most highly-guarded cells in Azkaban. Of You-Know-Who and the young Boy Who Lived? No word.  
  
I watched my mother in my rat form for quite some time. She cried a lot. She couldn't get out of her bed. Her female friends had to tend to her.  
  
After a while, I could no longer watch.  
  
The woman whose sake I'd done everything for...I wanted to preserve her in my memory as that smiling woman in my youth. I was afraid it would slip away forever.  
  
I made my way to a nearby wizarding house, playfully titled "The Burrow". I needed to stay at a wizarding house.   
  
I had to continue reading the wizarding papers -- for the obituaries.  
  
I did it for my mother's sake. I did it all for my mother's sake. I killed, I betrayed, I blackened my soul...all for the sake of motherlove.  



End file.
